


Meteor

by Sheksper



Series: I Made a Map of Your Stars [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Baby Names, Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheksper/pseuds/Sheksper
Summary: Keith and Pidge aren't supposed to drink. Keith and Pidge don't listen.





	Meteor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna name my kid Boaty McBoatface, don't know about y'all.

If Coran had warned them once, he’d warned them a thousand times that the numvil was for parties and events only. Unless there was a reason, they weren’t supposed to just go around drinking their supply. Of course, that stopped the majority of the paladins. Shiro was such a rule follower, never doing anything he wasn’t supposed to do, and Hunk just was never interested in drinking numvil even when they were allowed. Lance, although seeming like the most likely to break into the secret stash, had far too much respect for Coran to actually go against anything the moustached man asked of them.

Keith and Pidge were not above thievery and lying, however. The main problem with numvil was that in large enough quantities, it could get human beings drunk. Apparently, Alteans didn’t get drunk in the same way that humans did and when they found out of the alcoholic effects of the drink, everyone was surprised, to say the least.

But that was exactly the reason why Keith and Pidge had snuck out of their shared room in the late hours of the night and picked the lock on the liquor cabinet. What better way to fuck around for a night than by getting drunk? They didn’t do it every night, obviously. They didn’t even do it frequently. Sometimes, there were just nights where a paladin needed to unwind.

Surrounded by a form of holographic whiteboard and bottles of numvil, Keith and Pidge sat in the middle of the lounge floor, leaning against the couches rather than sitting on them, playing shitty games like Hangman. It was mindless enough, which was good since the whole point was to numb their minds for a little while. But Pidge was quickly getting giggly and couldn’t focus on the games enough to even stop Keith from winning at Tic Tac Toe.

“Keith?” she asked, drawing random lines on the whiteboard absentmindedly. “What would you name your kid if you had one?” It was a random question that she had thought of with no real significance behind it. She had been thinking about her own names, Katie and Pidge.

Keith dropped his head back onto the couch, staring blearily at Pidge out of the corner of his eye. “Coran,” he answered.

Pidge snorted, “What? Why would you name your kid after Coran?”

“I want my kid to be a gorgeous man and this is the only way to ensure that,” Keith nodded seriously.

“No, you need a name that really tells people what your kid is all about,” Pidge slurred, getting serious with him. “Name your kid My Chemical Disco At The Fall Out Pilots Kogane,” she tried her best not to laugh.

“Fuck off!” Keith chuckled, shoving her so she toppled over and into the whiteboard with a yelp.

Laughing, Pidge swatted him in the arm, dragging herself back up. “You should name your kid something tied to your heritage,” she suggested.

“Like what?” Keith questioned, flopping his head over to stare at her. His bangs fell in front of his eyes.

“Something with Texas roots!” Pidge declared. “Rootin’ Tootin’ Jim-Bob Jamboree!”

Keith burst into laughter, tumbling off the side of the couch. “No, I can’t name my kid that!” he grinned, “Do you know how many Rootin’ Tootin’ Whowhat’sit’s there are in Texas? Tons! Pidge, your kids need Italian names!”

“You don’t know any Italian names!” she cried. Pidge couldn’t help herself from the snickering overtaking her tiny frame.

“Yeah, I do. Cathrinetta Von Tapioca,” Keith took another sip of numvil, proud with himself.

Pidge hooted in glee, “What the hell kind of a name is that?!” Her voice cracked.

“A damn good one!” Keith nodded.

“There’s an Italian name that I actually do really like,” Pidge smiled softly. “Smulone.”

Keith glanced over at her. “Smulone?” he repeated.

Pidge beamed at Keith, “Yeah! It’s derived from the Italian word for wealth and riches.” Keith looked like he was genuinely interested, even through the bleariness of his eyes. She continued, “The word is… Small loan of a million dollars,” she snorted just as she finished.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Keith griped, amusement clear in his tone.

Pidge grabbed a marker, writing on the board, Bushid Ninalevan.

“Bush did nine eleven!” Keith hollered.

“Jet fuel can’t melt steel beams!” Pidge called back.

“Name my kid Luna. It’s short for The Moon Landing Was Fake,” Keith smirked to himself. He suddenly sat up, grabbing a marker and scribbling in his chicken scratch handwriting on the whiteboard.

“ _Noe Pane?_ That’s even worse than whatever you just said,” Pidge commented, leaning over his shoulder.

Keith stared her dead in the eye. “No Pain, Kogane,” he uttered.

Pidge wasn’t prepared for that. She let out a sudden breath of air that could have been considered a laugh or a cry of pain. “That’s not even how you say your last name!” she stared at him incredulously.

“I can Americanize it.” He sat back and took another drink. His eyes widened and for a second Pidge thought something was wrong. Keith slammed the bottle down, nearly spilling it in the process, then turned to her. “Pidge, name your fucking kid Lightning!” Keith suddenly suggested, clearly excited.

“That’s so lame! No!”

“Lightning Holt,” he argued, furrowing his eyebrows.

The seriously confused look on Keith’s face combined with the names he had made and the numvil just roused up another round of laughter from Pidge. “I’ll name them Egg Dip,” she whispered.

“ _Egg Dip!”_ Keith wheezed. “Why would you do that?!”

“It’s Pidge backwards,” she squeaked out. There were tears in her eyes and her cheeks hurt from laughing.

Keith just squinted at her for a moment. “Oh my god...” he breathed. He looked absolutely mind blown. “Oh my god! What the fuck?!” Keith shrieked. Pidge couldn’t help herself from cackling, throwing her head back. “Egg Dip…” Keith whispered as he swiped his hands down his face.

“Name my kid For Sale,” Pidge laughed.

Keith shoved her. “Pidge, what the fuck, no!” he was chuckling even as he reprimanded her. “Name them Hungry so no matter what they say, I can respond with ‘Hi Hungry, I’m Dad,’ until we both want to die,” Keith mumbled. He drank more numvil.

“I want to talk to people like, ‘Yeah, I have three kids, Not Clickbait, Gone Wrong, Gone Wild.’ And then those are the names of my kids,” Pidge giggled to herself.

Keith chuckled, nearly choking on his drink. He grinned and wrote on the board again.

“Harriette Meadowlark?” Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“No, all the letters are silent except the H,” Keith slurred seriously. “It’s pronounced,” Keith heaved suddenly, “HHHH Meadowlark.”

Pidge curled in on herself, letting out a high-pitched screech. It was so funny, Pidge couldn’t breathe. “I’m gonna piss myself!” she hissed through her wheezing.

“Forget naming my kids, they’ll all just be nameless. I’ll change my own name. To Mumford,” Keith chatted while Pidge killed herself through laughter. “I won’t answer anyone unless they address me and my posse of kids as Mumford and Sons,” Keith decided, spitting bitterly as if he had been personally wronged.

Pidge finally composed herself. She grinned at Keith, “I want to name my kid Jay.”

Keith thought that over, humming in agreement. “Yeah, Jay is a nice name.”

“Or Lark,” Pidge suggested. “Or Chickadee.”

Keith startled a laugh, suddenly catching onto the bird jokes.

“Name my child Red Breasted Sparrow Holt,” she closed her eyes, laughing at her own joke. “Heroin Holt,” she mumbled.

“Heroin Holt?!” Keith shouted.

Pidge quickly shot up, sputtering, “No!”

“ _My name’s Pidge, this is my son, Marijuana, and my daughter, Ecstasy!_ ” Keith imitated Pidge.

“Stop! I meant Heron! Like the bird!” Pidge cried, grabbing Keith’s arm and shaking it.

Keith’s voice became gravelly as he attempted to sound like a hardcore smoker, “Hmm, these’re my kids, Mary Jane, Speed Weed, and Dick Wolf,” he gargled out. He brought his fingers away from his mouth as if he was pretending to smoke.

“The bird, Keith!” she was crying and laughing at the same time, still yanking Keith’s arm.

Keith pulled her closer, hugging her to his chest, still ignoring her cries. He just rambled on, “My kid’s first and middle name is Donald but we usually just call him Don. Why?” Keith stared down at Pidge, who was tittering away, “Because in the criminal justice system, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous.”

“No!” Pidge squawked, trying even harder to pull away from Keith’s embrace.

“In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.” Keith suddenly shook Pidge around, startling a yelp from her. “DON DON!” Keith yelled.

Pidge shoved hard on Keith’s chest, propelling herself away from him and falling back. She was cackling and even as she hit the ground, she was still laughing. “My kid’s name is going to be,” Pidge screamed, sounding overly agonized.

Through his wheezing, Keith managed to ask, “How do you spell that?”

Pidge pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared at Keith, beaming, “You don’t. You just scream.”

Keith crawled over to hug Pidge again, pulling her up and into his arms. He let himself fall over, rolling along onto his back so Pidge was on top of his chest. She was smiling and laughing as she stared down at Keith, who beamed back. “You know what we have to name our kid, don’t you?” Keith muttered at her.

“Our kid?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Keith hummed, “Yep, our kid. We have to name her Stacy.”

Pidge bit her lip, trying to hide back her smile, yet failing. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve got it goin’ on,” Keith winked sloppily through his drunken haze.

Pidge snorted, “I’ve heard better pickup lines from Lance.”

“Well, sorry, but I don’t make the rules,” Keith shrugged. He rocked forward, holding Pidge as he did. She squeaked a little, instinctively wrapping her legs around Keith’s waist and digging her nails into Keith’s shoulder blades. “How about this for a pickup line; I’ll pick you up and carry you in a straight line to the room,” Keith sarcastically said.

Pidge shook her head but smiled nonetheless, relenting to the fact that Keith had bested her. She rested her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes and snuggling in. Keith lifted his chin slightly to allow her better access as they made their way down the hallway.

“Name our kid Barry B. Benson…” Pidge mumbled into Keith’s neck.

Keith guffawed abruptly, not ready for the comment. Pidge smiled into his neck at the sound.

By the time they had gotten to the bedroom, Pidge was practically unconscious, shifting awake slightly when Keith settled her onto the bed. He reassured her that he would go clean up the stuff and be back soon when she yanked on his sleeve, preventing him from leaving. She wined, but let go. It had been fun to stay up and discuss stupid names with Keith, she didn’t want it to end. Pidge tried to stay away until Keith returned, but she drifted fast, letting sleep overtake her. She could have sworn she felt the bed dip next to her for a moment right before she was completely gone to her own mind for the night. Larks filled her dreams, and she snickered.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you found this even half as funny as I did.


End file.
